


Routine

by metamorcy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Just lots of fluff, M/M, Title and summary states all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 12:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metamorcy/pseuds/metamorcy
Summary: Hanzo enjoyed his routines on his days off from his scheduled missions. Jesse, on the other, had no routine whatsoever and had absolutely no problem unintentionally disrupting Hanzo's own.





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Pure Red Crane

Hanzo was always a creature of habit. He followed his training to the very dot, followed his routines, his diets, his methods. It was something that settled him. It made him feel grounded. It gave him the peace of mind, something to push himself towards, something to focus on instead of his bitter thoughts.

It was also the very reason why he had turned against his brother in the first place and struck him down, a habit to follow the elders' demands without a single correlating thought.

Sadly, habits were just that: _habits_. They weren't easy to break, to shake off, and even more so when he was on the run. He had to follow such routines: get in, get out. He never set something that could be tracked to him, but the early rising, early departure, was something dug deeply into the very core of his body. These little things were probably what saved him from trouble, from the assassins trying to drag his corpse back to the family, from the hunters that wanted to claim his bounty.

Joining Overwatch years later only engrained those methods further, giving him something to work towards as long as he was on a mission. If not, Hanzo would wake up early, before the sun had risen in the distance, before it could even peak over the mountain range, and train in the total darkness. He would practice his kata, his drawstring techniques, take a brief run, before finishing it off with meditation to cool down. All before breakfast, which consisted of cooked rice, eggs, and fish. He didn't join the team's morning meals, isolating himself within his room despite the constant requests for his appearance, especially from his not-deceased brother, to construct a bond between the people he called his teammates.

Following breakfast, if Hanzo had the morning shift, he would run team simulations against endless amounts of robots, paired up with different groups created by Winston, Soldier, and sometimes a request of another. Hanzo had already mentally calculated those he worked best with, whose personalities settled with him or had the ability to cover his weaknesses or gave him the openings he required to make the necessary shots.

If it wasn't the morning shift, then it was in the afternoon and Hanzo had already placed something in-between to keep himself busy until that time. A lovely book, more meditation, equipment checks, and walks around the facility kept him pleasantly occupied. Sometimes, he would settle on the couch to watch a movie with the others or as Hana played her video games in the common room. A little bit of noise was pleasant and it kept time constantly moving, letting the day steadily pass on by without Hanzo being sucked into his dismal thoughts.

Lunch was always light, something simple, placed out onto the counter for everyone to grab. Nothing heavy, especially for those just coming out of training or those just heading in and Hanzo had no problem in participating for that time period. Everyone was too exhausted to make conversation and that suited him perfectly, dwelling in the silence and in his own little corner, far away from everyone else.

Dinner was much the same as breakfast, Hanzo never appearing for shared team meals, never participating in the cooking, never saying hello to a single person. His presence around the building was almost like ghost sightings, vanishing behind corners and doors before anyone could register him. Hanzo didn't mind the separation or the fact that he would have to deal with his own meals in return. It was perfectly fine.

He would slip in later at night, when everyone was long gone, and make his own dinner like it was something he was meant to do to keep going, another habit he didn't want to break. Afterwards, he would take a bottle of sake with him to the upper levels of Gibraltar to watch the stars and drink until he felt settled for the night, until the nightmares wouldn't be able to bother his muddled mind, before heading to bed. He would wake up in the morning to repeat the same routine all over again, over and over again. Nothing changed and Hanzo refused to allow it. This was what he considered normal.

Then Jesse McCree came into his life, carefully slipping in piece by piece unnoticeably, disrupting everything Hanzo knew within seconds and without a second care to the way he shattered Hanzo's world.

Their relationship was bizarre at best and the understanding of their personalities was contracting and yet they worked seamlessly together almost like perfection.

While Hanzo was quiet and reserved, Jesse was loud and talkative. The cowboy filled the surrounding silence with his own voice, chuckling over some joke he created or sharing little tidbits about the rest of the team. By the end of the day, Hanzo knew everyone's favorite meals, their opinions over certain matters within the base, and even what they had done the day before. He knew who was on what mission, what day they were returning, and the list goes on, all because of Jesse McCree.

Mornings, if Hanzo managed to sneak out of bed without stirring Jesse awake, he would complete his set routine before breakfast then return to drag the stubborn cowboy out of their shared bed. It was difficult at times (sneaking out of bed that is) considering it didn't take much to actually startle Jesse awake, the cowboy's own training and the lifestyle of being on the run for so long had left him jumpy to the lightest sounds or motions. However, if the cowboy was safe, warm, and comfortable, he would try to sleep most of the morning away and had no concerns forcing Hanzo to join him to keep him company in bed, wrapping his body around the archer like an oversized octopus.

If Jesse caught him trying to escape at the very beginning of the morning, the cowboy would drag him back into bed, fueled with kisses, blistering touches, and pleasurable shifting of the hips. It left Hanzo sore, ragged, covered in sweat and unmentionables, and utterly exhausted. There was absolutely no way he would be able to get up soon after, much less move when his own limbs felt like rubber, and the strong arms wrapped comfortably around his waist drew him right back into a satisfying slumber. Hanzo couldn't help but cuddle against his lover in those moments, enjoying the pleasant morning in bed instead of outside in the darkness alone.

Breakfast had been obviously changed, Jesse loving the fact he could drag Hanzo into the common kitchen, set him down in a chair, and simply cook with the others for a glorious meal. It was sometimes unhealthy (depending on who cooked), enough so that Hanzo refused to touch what was offered and instead made his own, passing a few bits to Jesse to devour (though that didn't stop the cowboy from sneaking his own onto Hanzo's obnoxiously plain pile of rice). Regardless, Hanzo came to enjoy these little changes to his set routine. It helped that Jesse did all the talking with the rest of the team, never minding the fact that Hanzo would sit silently beside him, never sprouting a single word the entire time. The gunslinger never forced him to participate in the conversation either, just pleased by his continuous presence only.

Simulations followed afterwards, Jesse coming to either join the matches or observe from the control room, with or without Hanzo. It wasn't like the gunslinger had much else to do around the base when free from missions, the man's fingers twitching from the lack of fights, lack of action. If not, he wandered around the base with Hanzo, keeping the archer company even when he was simply watching from the sidelines.

If Hanzo wanted to meditate, he had to do so outside in the shade or beside a couple of trees, out of range of wandering eyes (not that he minded). Jesse would simply nap beside him, pull his hat over his eyes, and enjoy the cool breeze from the ocean and the warmth of the sun on his body. It was one of the few times where Jesse was absolutely silent, letting Hanzo do his thing for an hour or two.

It was during this silence that Hanzo sometimes felt unnerved, not used to this calm state from his lover, and when he did, he knew there was no possible way he was going to complete his stance. His eyes wandered towards the settled cowboy, eyeing the other questionably before huffing, annoyed and completely unable to focus. Slipping quietly towards Jesse, Hanzo nestled against those familiar arms that always pulled him into blissful sleep, keeping him safe from the darkness of his own mind. Resting his head against Jesse's chest, tucking in against the collarbone, he closed his eyes, focusing on his lover's beating heart, the gentle cool breeze against his skin, and sometimes the feeling of fingers massaging into the back of his neck. It instantly brought absolute stillness within his mind, his troubles shoved far away to one side, and all he could think about was the warmth against him.

Missions with Jesse normally went pleasantly well, the gunslinger keeping the lines occupied and distracted, effectively weaving through barriers like water. His abnormally loud weapon kept his position easily locatable for both enemies and allies alike, Hanzo able to always know where his lover was positioned at all times. It helped that Jesse coordinated with everyone to create effective takeovers, skillfully gathering everyone into one area for easy kills, especially for his dragons.

The way Hanzo worked effortlessly and seamlessly with Jesse made many of these grueling missions bearable and if it had been a failure, the cowboy would make some remark to bring him out of his depression. Jesse had learned how to pull him out from within himself and in turn, Hanzo knew he was the perfect distraction when Jesse fell into his own darker thoughts, especially when fighting against a familiar foe. Nothing beat the way Hanzo would lean over against his lover and curl their fingers together, giving a tight reassuring squeeze whenever the other began to derail. It was these tiring times that Hanzo never cared that they would get stared at by the other members of the team for their public displays of affection, knowing he was keeping Jesse from drowning.

Dinner was now with the group, joining in with the ridiculousness as Reinhardt cheered about one thing or another, pulling in various members for an encore. Food was always delicious (depending on who made it because if it was Angela, everyone knew it was up for grabs) and Hanzo enjoyed the various cuisines, picking tidbits here and there. It was like family meals in a way, something Hanzo had never truly experienced since his youth, those days spent in training and learning.

Using Jesse as a barrier with the other teammates, Hanzo was slowly able to open up, gaining a couple of friends amongst the members. He joined in with the activities even if he was hovering in the corner and Jesse never cared nor minded, just wanting the other close by. For Jesse, if the noise began to get unbearable, if he couldn't deal with the looks or the interactions with his fellow teammates for the night, he snuck towards the back to Hanzo's side, almost like he was using his lover as a protective shield, and the archer never minded, grumbling whenever someone came to close. It worked perfectly for the two of them.

Nights were spent with Jesse sleeping beside him, curled up against his body like they were each other's teddy bear. Whether there was sex or not, depending on how exhausted they were after a day of working, it didn't matter. The familiar scent of gunpowder, cologne, smoke, and musk overwhelmed him, covering the bed sheets and himself, and Hanzo breathed it in, closing his eyes to it. It belonged to Jesse, washing over him like it was drawing Hanzo to sleep, and it did. It pulled him under and kept him safe within the confines of Jesse's overbearing warmth, a barrier from the nightmares he constantly suffered from, no longer needing to use alcohol to pull him into the realm of unconsciousness.

Because here, he was safe and loved.

Sure, it was a disruption to his routine, but Hanzo wouldn't have it any other way. The burning warmth deep within his chest and the way his lips would just smile at the mere thought of Jesse doing something endearing or silly made it all worth the trouble of breaking his routines.


End file.
